Painted Vessels

by Gina Renee Freitag

  “What are you getting at?” Eli asked.

  Marcus shifted in his seat. “Was it you?”

  Eli shook his head, puzzled by his inquiry.

  Marcus sighed. “The money. I need to know if it was you who gave it to the Webers.”

  Eli leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and stared at his friend for a long moment. “Why would you ask me that, Marcus?”

  “Because you didn’t react the way the rest of the men did at the meeting. When I told everyone about the money, they were all surprised except for David, who had just told me about it. And you.” When Eli remained silent, the pastor’s resolve seemed to falter.

  Eli exhaled slowly. “That isn’t what I meant. Why do you need to know who gave the money to Isaac?”

  Marcus dropped his shoulders in defeat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung my question on you like that. I need to know because one of the widows is in trouble. She’s having a problem with a loan her husband took out before he died, and she might lose her house. I have to find a way to help her!” Marcus glanced at the ground. “I just thought if I could figure out who gave the money to the Webers—and to Jacob Martin, for that matter—maybe there would be something left to help her.” He looked up again. “I was just trying to avoid taking up another collection. She doesn’t want anyone to know about it, but I don’t see any other way. Maybe I can go to a few people privately and ask if they can help.”

  “I don’t think you should,” Eli said. “Louise Evans is the only widow whose husband has died recently enough for a defaulted loan to be a problem. If I can figure that out, so can others.”

  “I don’t know what else to do,” Marcus said, shaking his head. The men sat in silence.

  “I do,” Eli said after a pause. “I can help her. I did give the money to the Webers and to Jacob. I’ll help Mrs. Evans pay her husband’s loan.” Eli leaned forward and peered closely at the pastor. “You better be as discreet as you claim to be, Marcus. I don’t want anyone to know it’s me.”

  PART 3

  But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind.

  James 1:6

  ELI

  Eli stood in David Holden’s office, holding his account information. This conversation needed to happen, but now that it was here, he hesitated. David handed him the house key.

  “Here you go, Mr. Gardner,” he said. “I should let you know; I’ve already unlocked your house. A few of the townsfolk are giving it a good wipe down. It should be ready for your arrival.”

  “Thank you; I appreciate it. But I thought we agreed to use our first names,” Eli said.

  David gave him a relieved smile. “We did. I’m glad you remembered, Eli. I prefer being informal, but I don’t often get the chance. When it comes to money, most people expect me to use their formal titles. I suppose it makes them feel as though their accounts are more secure.” He laughed. “Speaking of accounts, I assume that’s your ledger from Harold Ross.” Eli glanced down at the leather document folder in his hand and brought it closer to his chest.

  “David,” he said with a slight furrow on his brow. “When I decided to buy my wife a house, I asked Mr. Ross to recommend some towns with good banks owned by decent men. You were at the top of his list. He told me you run your bank honestly and efficiently. He also said you know how to be discreet.” He continued to hold onto his paperwork. “I would like to know if he was right. I already come into this town with a disadvantage. I know what people will think of me, and I know what I’m asking my wife to endure by moving here. I don’t want to give the town any more reason to judge me.”

  “I understand your concern,” David said with a nod. “I assure you, Eli, I take the privacy of your finances very seriously. I am bound by law; I cannot discuss your account with anyone unless I have your written permission. Even so, it’s an ethical issue for me as well. You can trust me. And I’d be more than happy to give any financial advice you need. I’ve helped many people settle their debts and work their way out of poverty in the thirty years I’ve been doing this. Sometimes it takes a while, but if you’re willing to follow my guidance, you’ll be amazed at what can be done with a little discipline.”

  Eli held onto his account information for a moment longer before stepping closer to David’s desk and handing it to him. David sat and motioned Eli to take the chair across from him. He opened the folder and scanned the information written on the ledgers. Eli watched his eyes moved from one paper to another, and then back again. After a pause, he looked up and shook his head.

  “I have to admit, this is not what I was expecting.”

  “I figured as much,” Eli responded.

  David seemed to carefully consider his next words. “Please don’t take this the wrong way; I’m simply trying to make sense of what I’m looking at. I got the impression you were just a tradesman.”

  “I do have a trade,” Eli said. “Woodworking. Ada and I spent the last six years living with a traveling merchant caravan. I sold carved goods.” Eli chuckled. “And toys.”

  “Well, I think I need to change my profession then,” David said with a shake of his head. “But I’m guessing that isn’t where a majority of your money comes from.”

  “No,” Eli admitted. “I’ve done a bit of investing during those years as well.”

  “A bit…” the banker repeated. “I’d like to know your secret.”

  “I don’t really have one,” Eli insisted. He tried to think of the easiest way to explain his experience. “Some investments just feel right, and others don’t.” He shook his head. “Please don’t repeat that to Mr. Ross. He spent almost six years teaching me everything he knows. I doubt he’d want to hear it all summed up like that.”

  “You’re probably right,” David agreed with a chuckle. “I won’t say a word. So, I see you have two accounts. I can combine these if you’d like.”

  “No,” Eli said in a resolute tone. “I don’t want those accounts to mix.”

  “Are you sure? Having one account is easier.”

  “I have my reasons. I’ll pull our living expenses from the smaller one and…” Eli stopped speaking when David began to chortle. He cast a questioning look at the banker.

  “Sorry, but I hope you realize your use of the word ‘smaller’ is only relative to your other account,” David clarified. Eli remained silent. When it came to his banking business, his usual relaxed humor was replaced with a more serious demeanor. David apparently got the message. “And the bigger account?” he prompted more professionally.

  “That one isn’t mine,” Eli said. He leaned back in his chair and looked past the banker, deep in thought. “That account belongs to God.”

  “Okay,” David said, nodding. “And what’s the plan for God’s money?”

  Eli shrugged. “I don’t know; I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to use it. He hasn’t shown me yet.” He looked at David. “But whatever it is, I think it’s going to be big. See there?” He pointed at the additional papers in the stack. “I have a lot of active investments and they’re all growing.”

  David picked through the papers as he dug into the pile. “So…” he said as a captivated expression spread over his face. “What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”

  MARCUS

  The late November wind blew crunchy leaves down the street. Marcus stepped into the inviting warmth of the bank and glanced around. Daniel stood at the counter, copying figures into a book. He shifted his attention to Marcus.

  “Good morning, Pastor Duncan. Are you looking for my father?”

  Marcus nodded. “Yes, thank you. Is he in?”

  Daniel gestured toward a door behind him. “He’s in his office. You can go right in; he’s expecting you.” Marcus thanked the young man again and walked toward the door. As he entered the office, David sat at his desk, talking with Eli. He stood and gestured to the empty chair.

  “Have a seat, Marcus,” he said. The men shoo
k hands, and Marcus took off his coat and hung it on a coat rack before sitting down. David went to the small woodstove in the corner of the room, put a thick piece of wood into it, and rejoined the other two. “So, Eli was just telling me about the situation Mrs. Evans finds herself in,” he said. “Were you able to get any more details?”

  Marcus nodded and handed him some paperwork from the White Falls bank. David shook his head as he glanced over the papers. “What were you thinking, George?” he said. “You know, he came to me earlier that year and asked about a loan. I told him it wasn’t a good idea. I guess he didn’t like my answer.” He looked up from the papers. “Do we know where the money from this loan ended up? It’s not in their account.”

  “No, we don’t,” Marcus said. “Louise didn’t know about the loan until she was contacted a few weeks ago. If George took the loan from a different bank, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had an account somewhere else as well, but it isn’t with Mr. Dixon in White Falls.”

  “This is all very odd,” David said. “It doesn’t seem like George. He must have been getting confused in his old age. We have to assume that the money is lost.” He glanced at the papers again. “Three years of interest! If this had been caught earlier, her house might not be in danger. I’ve never been impressed with the way Mr. Dixon runs his bank over there.”

  He handed the papers to Eli, who began reading the information. Marcus was still trying to get used to the idea that this young man could help. He had no idea how much money Eli had, and that worried him. What if he was asking too much? Eli was generous enough to give away everything, and since he and Ada lived so simply, it wouldn’t be surprising if he gave until it hurt.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” Marcus asked, trying to offer his friend a way out.

  Eli nodded dismissively as he continued to look over the paperwork, and then he looked up at David. “Can you make sure this is paid without my name attached to it?” he asked.

  “Of course,” David said. “The easiest way would be to move the money into the church account and pay it from there. How do you feel about that, Marcus?” Marcus shrugged and gave his consent. “Okay, then,” David continued. “I can get this all wrapped up in a few days and Louise can forget there was ever a debt.” He turned to Eli. “Shall we handle it the same way as before?”

  “Yeah, let’s use the smaller one,” Eli said, nodding. Marcus wondered what that meant. He was about to ask, but Eli continued to speak. “David, this loan might be taken care of, but will Mrs. Evans still be struggling? I suspect she doesn’t always have as much money as she needs.”

  David looked at Eli with a straight face. “I’m sorry, friend. You know I can’t give you that information. You get to know details about the loan because you’re settling it, but I don’t have permission to tell you anything beyond that. And I can’t ask for it without revealing your involvement.”

  Marcus could see the wheels turning behind Eli’s eyes as he considered the banker’s words. He wasn’t going to accept David’s answer.

  “Marcus,” he asked, still peering steadily at David. “East Haven has three widows, correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Would you say they all have enough money to live on?”

  “I would say—generally speaking—most widows don’t,” Marcus answered carefully.

  Eli directed his next question back to David. “And do you know what a yearly income for a widow should be?” David barely had time to nod before Eli added, “So, if you were to compare that amount to what each of the widows actually has, you could add up those deficits.”

  David continued to nod. “Yes, but—“

  “Then I suggest you have that amount in mind when you advise me on how much I should deposit into the East Haven Widows’ Fund.”

  “The East Haven Widows’ Fund?” David asked.

  “Yes,” Eli said with a decisive nod. “And I’m sure it’s part of the pastor’s job to inform his parishioners when they’re the beneficiaries of a fund like that. Especially if the fund is set up with the church as the trustee. Am I right, Marcus?”

  “Uh…yes. That’s correct,” Marcus answered as he grinned at David.

  The banker shook his head and started to chuckle. “Okay,” he said, “let’s set this up.” He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out some forms.

  As David began to write up the funding terms, Marcus marveled at how well Eli had orchestrated the scene as it played out. He had never seen this side of his friend before, and he was impressed with Eli’s grasp on financial matters.

  “Promise me you won’t get yourself into trouble by giving away too much,” he pleaded, still wrestling with his earlier concern.

  A grin spread over Eli’s face, and he laughed as though he had heard a good joke. “I promise,” he said as he clasped Marcus on the shoulder. The men turned their attention back to the paperwork in front of David. The fire crackled in the woodstove, drowning out the sound of the crisp autumn wind.

  ELI

  Eli stood a few paces away from Jed on the rocky bank of Badger Creek. It was a cold morning in late September, but the wool sweater from the wooden chest kept him warm. He cast his line out to the center of the stream, but his thoughts were not on fishing. Jed was talking about staying at the winter camp through the summer. He suggested it would give them more time to finish construction on the vardo. As excited as Eli was to build their home, even this conversation couldn’t pull his mind away from what lay hidden in the bottom of his canvas bag. And what was in the bag reminded him of the horrible things that had happened less than six months earlier.

  “Are you okay?” Jed asked. “It seems like you have something on your mind.”

  “I was thinking about something Ira said on Sunday,” Eli admitted. “Do you think all those bad things happened to us because God wanted them to, so He could use them somehow? God can do anything, right? Then why does He need the bad stuff?”

  Jed sighed. He paused for a moment, and then proceeded to explain the difference between man’s sinful choices and God’s ability to use evil for good, but the whole subject made Eli’s gut twist into a knot. Whatever good thing God was going to do, didn’t feel good right now!

  “…can you see the difference, Eli?”

  “I guess,” he said. Eli felt the knot tighten as he remembered what those men had done to their parents. The scene replayed in his mind and he blinked back angry tears, trying not to imagine what kind of life he and Ada might have had if they hadn’t escaped. “It’s just hard to believe anything good can come from what happened to us.”

  “I know,” Jed agreed, “but faith is a hope in things you can’t see. The trials God allows in our lives cause us to grow and mature…” Jed went on to explain that Eli also had a choice. He could remain bitter and angry, or he could trust that God was going to do a good work in him.

  Jed’s words stirred up a memory from his dream. “Eli, tend my crops.” He knew God wanted him to do something; he felt a conviction deep in his heart. He even had Jed cover his marks with a tattoo that would always remind him of that calling. Maybe God planned to use Eli because of those bad things; maybe that was the good that could come out of everything that happened. Eli locked onto that thought and held fast to the idea. The only problem was that he didn’t know what he was being called to do. What if he couldn’t do it well? What if he wasn’t good enough?

  Jed continued to speak. “…every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father who doesn’t ever change. That means we can always trust in God’s plan for our life, even when bad things happen.” Eli nodded as he took in everything Jed was saying.

  “So, God can use the bad things to do good things through me? But…what if I can’t let go of my anger?” Eli didn’t know if he would ever be able to do that; he felt so angry! How could he just let it go? And along with his anger came a hatred for what was hiding in his bag. He was sure there was nothing good about that!

  Jed
pointed at a logjam near the far end of the stream and compared it to anger and unforgiveness. Eli didn’t say anything as he continued to gaze out over the water. Jed was right; his anger made him feel all jammed up inside. He wanted God’s goodness to be in him; he longed for His purpose. Eli wanted to do whatever was asked of him, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it well unless he could let go of his resentment. In order to do that, he would need to get rid of what he had been carrying in his bag for all these months. He realized he couldn’t do whatever he wanted with it; he would need to handle it in the right way. Up until now, Eli had only trusted Jed to a certain point, but this morning, he decided to trust him with everything.

  “Jed, I need to tell you something,” he said. “I need your help. I have something I don’t think I should have.” As the man looked at him with compassion in his eyes, Eli knew he was doing the right thing. Even so, he was still scared.

  “You can tell me anything, Eli; we can figure it out together,” Jed promised.

  Eli tried to gather his courage but shook his head. “No, I need to show you.” He began to pull in his line. They wouldn’t be catching any fish today.

  JED

  Jed knelt next to the wooden chest in the young couple’s tent and watched Eli dig through its contents. What could cause so much fear and hesitation in the boy? Eli pulled a canvas bag out of the chest and set it on his lap. It was the same bag he had been carrying when he ran into Jed’s vardo as the caravan was preparing to leave Ashbrook back in June. Jed never noticed it again after they had reached Clackton, and he had forgotten all about it. Seeing it now reminded him of the stubborn way Eli had held onto it, refusing to let it out of his sight.

  After the wedding ceremony, Jed had found the bag sitting against a tree. The boy must have set it there when he took his bath. In all the excitement, it had been forgotten, and whoever emptied the tub had failed to see it. It might still be there to this day if Jed hadn’t stumbled upon it in the twilight. He put it in the newlyweds’ makeshift tent, and now—nearly four months later—he was looking at it once more as Eli held it reluctantly between his knees.